Chapter 6 Octavius
THE MORNING AFTER I stayed the night, I slipped out before she woke, and it felt irritatingly like a walk of shame.
I shouldn’t have been there in the first place, and yet, after seeing what her fate could have been, I couldn’t bring myself to regret it.
Still, when morning came, I told myself my time there had been complete and that leaving was practical, with no reason to linger any longer.
I convinced myself I had already overstepped, that my lack of restraint in ensuring her safety had crossed a line.
I told myself it had been about uncovering her truth, about understanding what she was hiding so I could protect the town.
A noble justification, of course.
Though, truthfully, I found I no longer cared about that reasoning at all, and perhaps I should have stepped back entirely.
Instead, I returned the following day. And the day after that. And then again the next. What began as a single lapse in judgment became something far more, though I refused to name it as such.
Two weeks later, her cottage was no longer a hazard waiting to collapse in on itself.
It wasn’t perfect—not by any reasonable standard—but it was livable.
Safe enough that I could finally get some rest at night after leaving her there each evening, no longer wondering if the structure would still be standing by morning.
That alone should have been enough reason to stop seeing her and marked the end of my involvement. And yet, I kept returning.
I usually arrived in the afternoons after my work was done, and earlier on my days off under the guise of efficiency, or with the excuse I convinced myself of that I needed to drain the emotions in the cove—the one that conveniently sat below her home—though I knew that wasn’t the truth.
There was a pull there, something that kept drawing me back to her, making me linger just to exist in her presence.
Still, I made sure to leave at a reasonable hour each day, telling myself it was out of respect for her boundaries, though in truth, it was just as much about maintaining my own.
I refused to let there be a repeat of that first night.
I made certain alcohol was never involved again, even when she tried to “spice up” our poker lessons once the day’s repairs were done and I needed an excuse to stay just a little longer.
I remained hyper-aware of what had almost happened between us, that moment replaying in my mind with frustrating clarity, especially when I was near her.
It had been nothing more than a lapse in judgment. A simple combination of alcohol and proximity. That was the only explanation that made sense, the only one I allowed myself to accept.
And yet... I remembered the way she had responded.
The shift in her breath had stayed with me.
And even though I tried not to open myself to her emotions, it had been too strong to ignore.
I remembered sensing her desire, even without touching her, something that had mirrored my own.
A desire I still felt even now, though I pushed it down, closing myself off from her emotions, unwilling to let them confuse or tempt me further before I did something reckless.
I straightened, rolling my shoulders once in an attempt to shake off the memory and refocus on what had started all of this. Because Kara had secrets, but now I didn’t actually care what they were. It wasn’t my truth to know, and she didn’t owe me anything.
But still, that part of her lingered in my mind, gnawing at me in a way I couldn’t quite ignore.
I wanted to dismiss it, to tell that suspicious, overly analytical part of myself to let it go, but I couldn’t.
The more time I spent around her, the more certain I became that there was something she was holding back.
It showed in small ways, in how she deflected certain questions and in the inconsistencies in her family lineage.
There were gaps, entire sections of her life she avoided acknowledging altogether.
And the most frustrating part was that I had already closed that line of inquiry off completely.
I couldn’t access anything more without touching her, a line I refused to cross unless she accepted that second session.
I didn’t want to blur those boundaries, because I knew if I touched her again, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to stop, and I couldn’t guarantee it would remain professional.
Then again, I wanted to dig deeper the next time I laid my tentacles on her.
Not because I wanted to catch her in a lie, but because I wanted to make sure she was truly alright, that she wasn’t in trouble, that whatever she was hiding wasn’t something that would come back to harm her.
Because if she was in some kind of danger, I wasn’t sure how rational I could remain.
Despite all logic, Kara was becoming something else entirely to me.
I found myself laughing when I was around her. Actually laughing. Smiling in a way that felt genuine and unforced, whether it was because of her stubbornness or the constant way she challenged me. She was, irritatingly, adorable in her convictions, and I had started to grow used to it.
It was almost ironic, the way she made me feel. My clients came to me for relief, for the kind of ease I gave them through my work, and yet the ease I felt around her came from nothing more than her presence. No magic. No effort. Just her.
By the time I was getting ready to close the parlor for the evening, I found myself already wanting to be back in her company.
It had been a slower day, thankfully, and fewer clients meant less to take in.
Most of it had been routine work, traditional massages rather than the deeper, emotional sessions that demanded more from me.
I was in my office, gathering a few things before closing, when the knock came. Mina didn’t wait for a response before pushing the door open. Of course she didn’t. For her, the knock was merely a courtesy.
“So, how was the day?” she asked, leaning casually against the doorframe.
“Slow,” I replied, not looking up as I finished organizing the last of my notes, forcing my focus onto something other than the direction my thoughts were already drifting at the idea of seeing Kara tonight.
“Thankfully, there wasn’t much stress to absorb today.
Mostly routine work. Sore shoulders. Misaligned spines—”
“So just muscles and happy clients.”
“Uh-huh.”
“And yet,” she continued, and I looked up to find her folding her arms, a knowing smile tugging at the corner of her mouth, “you look like you’re in a hurry to run right out of here.”
I rolled my eyes, because of course she already knew. There was no hiding anything from Mina. Trying always proved pointless.
“So,” she pressed, tilting her head slightly, clearly enjoying this far too much, “where are you off to that has you moving in such a hurry? Let me guess... back to Kara’s?”
“Yes,” I said, the word coming out more resigned than I intended, because I could already see the conclusion she was building in her mind, one I had no intention of confirming. “To help with more of the repairs,” I added, more firmly this time, as if confidence alone might make it believable.
She didn’t even attempt to hide her satisfaction. “I thought so. Well,” she continued, completely undeterred, “from the number of hours you’ve been spending there, I assume the cottage is in much better shape by now.”
It was, and that was the problem. My work there was nearly finished, and once I handled the last few minor repairs, there would be no reason left for me to return—no logical excuse to keep spending my evenings at her place.
Which meant...
I stilled for half a second, the realization settling in, because I knew exactly what it meant.
When the project was done, that would be it.
I wouldn’t have a reason to go back. And unless she took me up on that second session I had offered, there would be no clear reason for us to keep seeing each other at all.
And that thought didn’t sit well with me.
“It’s in better shape,” I said evenly, setting my notes aside and finally standing, “but there’s still more to be done. And I intend to finish what I started. That’s all.”
Mina made a soft, entirely unconvinced sound. “Right. Of course.”
“She clearly doesn’t know what she’s doing,” I continued, ignoring her tone entirely. “You didn’t see the state that place was in. If I hadn’t stepped in, it would have collapsed on top of her, and then I would have lost a paying client.”
“Mm-hmm,” Mina said, nodding slowly. “Can’t go losing a client now, can we?”
I narrowed my eyes slightly. “Mina.”
“Fine,” she said, dragging the word out just enough to make it irritating. “Whatever you say.”
I moved past her, grabbing my coat, determined to end this conversation before it spiraled any further.
“Just make sure you bring at least eight condoms,” she called after me.
“Mina,” I scolded, like a disappointed parent, because if even she could sense this thing between me and Kara, then Kara had to know too, and I didn’t need that awkward tension settling between us, not if it meant ruining our plans for the evening, which were fixing the closet door in her bedroom.
The only activity that would be taking place in her bedroom.
Though, as I started to imagine it, I felt my pants grow uncomfortably tight.
“What?” she said, completely unbothered. “I’m just looking out for you.”
“It is not like that.”
“It’s not my business,” she replied, already turning toward the door. “I’m just saying, preparation is key.”
“Mina.”
She waved a hand over her shoulder, dismissing me entirely as she walked out. “Have fun.”
THE WALK THROUGH TOWN was peaceful as I headed toward the hardware store for a few supplies, but just as I reached the storefront of The Rusted Anchor Hardware, that same pesky thought crept back in.
The project was almost done, which meant we were almost done, and a few weeks ago, that would have been ideal.
I liked my peace and my solitude. I liked not having to think about anyone but myself.
Now, though, nothing about it felt peaceful, because I didn’t want our time together to be over.
I lingered outside the shop, my hand hovering near the door without actually pushing it open.
Because as much as I told myself this had always been about the house, about the obvious safety issues and her complete lack of experience with even the most basic repairs, that wasn’t entirely true anymore.
I was enjoying her company. Her ridiculous jokes that barely made sense half the time.
The way she insisted on helping, even when she was objectively making things worse.
Even the poker lessons she’d forced on me, which I had initially endured more than enjoyed, had become something I looked forward to, and I wasn’t ready to leave any of it behind.
Unless... what if I didn’t finish it? Not yet, anyway.
Maybe I got off work too late and the store was already closed.
Or maybe they didn’t have what I needed and had to order it, something that would conveniently take a few days to arrive.
But that idea fell apart just as quickly, because why would I still need to show up tonight then?
If I was going to stick with this hardware store excuse, I needed a better reason to be at her house, and then it came to me. Food.
Each day I’d been there, she’d made dinner for us, though “made” was a generous term considering it was one microwavable meal after another, even after I got her kitchen up and running, which told me she was probably a terrible cook.
So tonight, maybe I could shift things, say I wanted to cook for her instead. I could even offer to teach her, and that could buy me a few more days. But even as the thought formed, it unraveled, because if I taught her, then she wouldn’t need me anymore, and I’d be right back where I started.
“Fuck,” I muttered under my breath, dragging a hand through my hair, my fingers snagging on my ponytail.
I sounded like some awkward teenager, overthinking every possible angle.
I didn’t need to jump through hoops just to have a reason to see her, I could just be an adult and admit that I liked spending time with her.
But then again... what if she didn’t feel the same?
I had shut that channel down to give her some privacy, so I had no idea how she felt now.
And what if she only liked having me around because I was useful, because I was fixing things and providing something she needed?
No.
No, she wasn’t like that. Even in the short time I’d known her, there had always been something genuine about her. And yes, I knew she was attracted to me, that much was obvious, but I also believed it was more than that. Or maybe I just hoped it was.
I turned away from the hardware store, my mind made up as I set off down the street, fully committing to the idea of cooking dinner for her. I could make something from home, just a traditional Japanese dish, nothing too overwhelming. Salmon and rice would be easy enough.
With a renewed sense of purpose, I headed toward The Salty Gull Market, gathering what I needed. Some rice, fresh fish, vegetables, and of course, seasonings, because those mattered just as much as anything else.
By the time I paid and stepped back out into the evening air, the sky had begun to dim, the soft glow of lanterns flickering to life along the street.
I adjusted my grip on the bags and turned toward the path leading up to the cliffs, a new plan for the evening settling into place.
I just hoped she didn’t see through my lies.